Game Four
by Mrs Dionysius O'Gall
Summary: Lorelai, Luke, and the Red Sox victory.


"Johnny Damon, how I love you…" Lorelai began singing, to the tune of "Johnny Angel." "Johneeee Day-mon…"

"Geez, don't do that during the game, OK?" Luke replied, as his girlfriend busied herself in the bathroom, changing into something comfortable after work.

"Well at least I've got your team right tonight…" she replied, reminding him how she had come downstairs actually wrapped in cellophane, the night of Game 1 of the American League Championship Series, wearing nothing but three rolls of cling-wrap and an abomination of a Yankees cap.

That evening, Luke discovered that it was officially a Bad Idea to watch an Important Game at one's girlfriend's house. Though, he had to admit, the consolation prize Lorelai bestowed upon him after the Sox lost that night was almost worth the pain he felt after that defeat.

After that game, he banned Lorelai from being with him during the rest of the series. But after the Sox pulled off their miracle win over the Yankees, he felt maybe that she might not jinx the World Series. Something funny had happened to him since he'd come back from Maine and they'd started being together. Three hours without her made him feel very lonely, and no sportscaster, it seemed, could fill the void. Plus, in her favor, she'd pointed out to him that none of the Sox had shaved, just like him, and how could she be denied being around ALL of her favorite stubbly, baseball-cap-wearing men? So he'd acquiesced, though he had to draw the line at clipping his toenails in front of her, no matter that Johnny Damon did so on national TV.

So, it turned out that she had to work the first few games of the 2004 World Series, but come Game 4, she had time off and was able to join Luke. Luke insisted that they watch at his apartment; a man's gotta watch his game in the place he feels most comfortable, and though he loved being with his new girlfriend in her girly and quippy household, he could feel in his bones that tonight was THE night. In fact, he hadn't felt this sure about something since the night he pulled that horoscope out of his wallet at Sniffy's.

Yep, a drought ended that night, and a drought would surely end tonight.

Lorelai, in what still seemed like a miracle to Luke, had ended a very low time in his life. Surely, his so-called marriage to Nicole was an all-time inglorious low for him, but just like the torturous seven-game series with the Yankees ended up being a prelude to a greater thing, so did that time in his life. Surely that was a sign.

What a minute. Now he was starting to think like her.

"Johnee Da-mon…" she sang again, suddenly plopping herself onto his lap, flinging her arms around him, peppering his jawline with kisses, then snuggling up under his chin, all in the space of oh, ten seconds.

It was then that he saw what she was wearing. Or rather, not wearing.

It was one of those silky tank-top and panty outfits, only she was wearing Red Sox colors, and wait, were those two Red Sox patches sewn right over her…

Damn.

Lorelai noticed that he'd noticed, and giggled, arching her back so that the two Red Sox logo patches sewn onto her camisole top saluted the ceiling.

Two comebacks against Mariano Rivera's cutter converted into walk-off wins by Ortiz, Derek Lowe's triumph, Curt Schilling's sutured tendon in its bloody sock, and the impending vindication of Red Sox Nation, were not enough to divert Luke from the spectacle of his exuberant girlfriend.

But wait! There was more. He saw it. It. The sock. His crazy, lovable girlfriend was wearing one "bloody" sock.

Lorelai giggled, then waved a second sock at him. "For you!

Unbelievable.

They were announcing the National Anthem, and there was but one thing to do.

Give in to her.

So, Luke Danes, long-suffering ardent member of Red Sox Nation, long-suffering ardent adorer of Lorelai Gilmore, kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his socks, and pulled on the one "bloody" sock being offered by his lover.

She was effervescent, giggling with glee. "I used red permanent marker and kind of drew the map of Texas," she explained.

They say that if you weren't a Boston fan, that you had no way of comprehending the depth of the torturous misery of all those years under the Yankees' oppressive thumb.

Luke understood, more than he'd like to admit. He remembered the words of Pee Wee Reese, the Dodgers shortstop, who'd dropped several cross-town World Series to the Yankees. Reese had said: "It gets to be more than baseball. It makes you start to wonder what kind of person you really are."

Until Lorelai melted into his arms and kissed him back on that warm spring night, Luke felt much the same way. Life was unfair to him, a bit too cruel and daunting. His parents' deaths, Liz's wackiness, the whole situation with Jess. His inability to hold onto a relationship, his mostly platonic marriage--all were adversities that tried his soul just like one Yankee defeat after another. But then she, this squirming, never-standing-still (AND never-sitting still) bundle of feminine energy and delight on his lap, gave her heart and love to him (hell, she gave him her everything). And by some miracle he still couldn't explain, she had accepted him, and he no longer had to wonder what kind of person he really was.

Because of her, he was simply Luke, loved by Lorelai. And that was enough to define him.

By the end of the game, the Red Sox had to wonder no more. They had laughed at adversity while laughing at themselves, bonded with their Nation, and given hope to the hopeless. Scruffy, battered, bloodied by adversity, yet lovable.

By the end of the game, two very satisfied members of Red Sox Nation jumped up and down, kicked off their socks, and fell breathless onto the bed where they first had joined bodies. One scruffy, battered by life, once done in by a sock-man, now redeemed by the love of a woman. The other, beautiful, but also battered by life, now redeemed by the love of a man.

"Lukie Danes, how I love you…" she crooned, as he pulled the silken top up over her head, and this time, shut her up with a triumphant kiss.

Game 4 and the Red Sox victory were unforgettable. But he'd always remember her little outfit, and the way she looked into his eyes as they celebrated. 


End file.
